Brothers and Wives Page 15

At one in the morning I am dead asleep having a dream about people getting shot and killed when my cell rings. Groggy, I pick it up and say, “Hello.”

  “Open the door.”

  “Scottie? What’s going on? Where you been?”

  “I’ll explain in a minute. Open up.”

  I hang up the phone and stumble out of bed, down the hall, and swing open the front door, which squeals like it’s angry.

  Scottie gives me a sheepish look, then brushes past me and starts pacing across my living room. He looks a combination of frustrated and worried.

  “You need to start explaining yourself,” I say and fold my arms under my chest. I gape at him and wait for his excuse.

  “Well, you see, it’s like this. I was going to do one thing but ended up doing another. And then it seemed like things weren’t going to work out, but I had to do something. No way was I going to let the night end without doing something.”

  “I’ve never seen you act this way before.”

  “I’ve never felt this way before. It’s confusing and hard and …”

  “Are you trying to tell me something?”

  “Yes, Mariah, yes.”

  “I really wish you’d call me by my name. Because as long as you call me Mariah, I feel like you’re living in a fantasy. Like you’re afraid to face who and what I really am.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I hear what you’re saying. And I think you’re right.”

  “Scottie, please. Do you want anything to drink?” I sniff the air and know the answer without him having to say anything.

  “How many beers did you already drink?”

  “More like shots and beers!”

  “You went to a bar?”

  “It was a nightclub.”

  “Without me?”

  “I had to work for a minute and then I had to do some other things….”

  “Did the other things have to do with a woman?”

  He gives me a solemn look. “Of course, Dani.”

  I throw my hands in the air and start pacing opposite him. “I see. I should’ve known better. You can’t fit a square into a triangle. It wouldn’t have worked. Too many odds.”

  “Dani!”

  “No, it’s cool. I’m okay with it. I’m glad you had the guts to come and tell me to my face. I’ve always hated cowards.” I laugh, then stop. “At least you’re different from the guy I dated last year. His name was Marc Fletcher. White guy! Can you believe that? When he realized he started feeling me too much, he sent me a freaking text message. He claimed how he cared about me, but he was too scared of his strong feelings, as he put it. He never told me he loved me. Five months of dating. Exclusive dating, mind you, and he couldn’t get his mouth to form those words. But he had no trouble saying he wanted to date other women just to see if his feelings for me were real.” I stop walking and look angrily in Scottie’s direction. “Since the bastard never called or texted me back, I guess his feelings weren’t real, huh?”

  I storm toward my bedroom without waiting for Scottie to reply. I stand at the foot of my bed and crawl in. I imagine myself being a three-year-old, like Brax, getting into bed with someone who’s promised to love and protect him. I pretend like I’m crawling and making steps toward a person who will hold me in his arms, surround me with pure love, and promise that he’ll never leave, he’ll never hurt me, he’ll never choose anyone else over me.

  When I reach the top of my bed and all I find are four fluffy pillows, I can’t take it anymore. I let out all the fear and anxiety I’ve been holding in since the last weekend in July and maybe even before.

  When you’ve blown it in relationships too many times to count, there comes a point when you have to face the hard truth that some people just aren’t meant to succeed in love. For whatever reason, God is mad at me. He doesn’t want any man to stick around longer than a few nice fuck sessions, and he certainly doesn’t want any decent man to put a ring on it.

  I sit up, tilt my head toward the ceiling, close my eyes, and let out a piercing wail. I scream for all the times a man has told me he loves me, just to up and marry the next woman he dates after he’s dumped me. I scream for every lonely night I’ve spent on New Year’s Eve, looking at stupid music video countdowns, noticing other people smile and party with their partners, watching them kiss and hug the one they love, the one who’s there with them at the end of the year, and the one who’s with them at the start of another year. Scottie bursts through the door and cups his hand on my mouth. I twist and turn, and sink my teeth into his hand. He winces but still holds me. My screams weaken with every second. I stare at him, trying to breathe through the small open crevices that his fingers allow.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you acting like this?”

  “Just go, please,” I say hoarsely when he releases me. “It hurts. I can’t hurt anymore.”

  “Me? Hurt you?”

  I turn over so I won’t have to face him and look into his eyes.

  “Dani, talk to your man. Tell me what’s going on. If you don’t tell me, I won’t know how to fix it.”

  “You should have thought about that before you did what you did.”

  “What did I do?” he asks, his voice filled with bewilderment.

  “Break up with me!”

  “W–what? Are you crazy? I’m madly in love with you.”

  “Right. The last man who was in love with me, took such a long-ass break that I’m still waiting to see if it’ll come to an end.”

  “Hold on. You’re with me now, not with this guy, not with Neil, not with any man but me, you get it?” Scottie kicks off his shoes and slides under the covers.

  “Dani!”

  “What?”

  “Olive juice.”

  “Oh, Scottie.”

  “What’s that? Is that a smile?”

  “A smile I’m not sure you deserve.” I can’t help but let him see me grin. Every time he says “olive juice,” which is what he said to me the first time he admitted he loves me, I can do nothing else but smile.

  “I want to believe you, but your behavior tonight … it isn’t something I’m used to. You broke our date night for the first time ever. You went to a club without me. It makes me feel uneasy, Scottie.”

  “It’s all for a good reason. It’s part of a surprise that I’ve planned. It’ll be revealed in due time. You just have to trust me.”

  “T-r-u-s-t. Such a little word.”

  “L-o-v-e. An even smaller word. But they’re both important. I’m learning things about them this year that I didn’t know before.”

  Even though I don’t understand what’s he talking about, and I don’t want to believe him, I do. I’m scared. But I must trust him. Trust is like the rope I need in order to hang on.

  One of the biggest obstacles to diving headfirst into a relationship is getting over the trust barrier. And one thing my mother told me when I reached my twenties is, “If you can see it, it’s not faith.”

  When I asked her what that meant, she said, “As hard as it may be, in order to love a man, you must learn to trust him, something I wasn’t any good at when I was with your father. If you trust him, instead of worrying about every little thing in the relationship, things tend to work out. If he’s doing something he shouldn’t be doing, it’ll come out in the wash,” she said. “And if he proves himself to be trustworthy, you’ll feel strong, the way a woman ought to feel when she loves a man.”

  And tonight, when Scottie asks me to trust, I take a mental leap of faith. I decide not to strip away my peace by trying to figure out his mysterious ways.

  Besides, like mama says, if he’s doing anything inappropriate, what I don’t know now will be known one day.

  The next day is Sunday, my favorite day of all because it’s the most relaxing day of the week. Scottie sets up camp in the living room, watches football, and eats microwave popcorn oozing with butter and sprinkled with nacho cheddar topping. Brax stays occupied playing with fire engines and his animal farm until he’s pooped
and ready to take his nap. The Texans game has just started. Scottie’s sitting on the love seat; his big ole feet are propped on a handcrafted wooden trunk that doubles as a coffee table.

  Holding a cold beer in one hand, and a can of sugar-free ginger ale in the other, I stand next to Scottie. “Scoot over.”

  “C’mon, babe. What’s up? You want to watch the game or you in the mood for something else?”

  “Game.” I sit down and place my leg on his thigh.

  “Don’t start nothing you can’t finish, Dani.”

  “Oh, I can finish it all right.”

  I place my hand on his jersey sleeping shorts and carefully ease my fingers inside until I’m gripping his lengthy cock.

  “Hey, watch it. I thought you wanted to watch the game.”

  “Shhh, be quiet. I’m multitasking.”

  “That’s not what I’d call it. Hey. Ooo. Stop that unless you ready to get fucked.”

  I hold his cock in my hand, rubbing the shaft.

  “You aren’t thinking about the Texans right now, Scottie. Shame on you. I thought you were their number one fan.”

  He pounces on me. Instantly we’re tangled together, my lips reaching for his lips. He stares me in my eyes, kissing me deeply and with so much passion my eyes roll in the back of my head. He runs one hand through my hair and maneuvers his body so that I’m sitting on the side of his lap.

  “Mmmm,” he moans. “C’mon. Let’s go.”

  “Hold on a sec.” I lift my arms and strip off my short-sleeved sweater. My breasts are exposed, and Scottie nuzzles my nipples with his lips. He gently bites on my breasts. I arch my neck and let him suck on me.

  “Fuck, you do this to me every time. I never get to see the whole game.”

  He lifts me up in his arms and carries me to my bedroom. He tosses me on the bed, and within seconds he’s totally naked. The sound of an afternoon rain shower heightens the atmosphere and soothes me.

  “Give me some of that DSL,” he says and pushes my head toward his cock. “I love your dick-sucking lips.”

  “I know you do.”

  I lie next to him and scoot down so I can swiftly take him in my mouth. I suck then lick his erect penis and hold it between my hands. Scottie rubs my hair and jerks around every few seconds. When I’m done with him, I lie on my back and spread my legs. He starts kissing my inner thighs and makes a trail on both sides until he makes small quick pecks around my vagina, like he’s teasing me.

  “Mmmm, go ahead, big daddy. Put your mouth on it. Suck me like I’m a frozen fruit bar.”

  “Mmmm,” Scottie growls and presses his big tongue on my dripping twat. I love it.

  I relax and let Scottie do his thing; he laps and nibbles on my twat, working his tongue on my recently shaven labia. He makes me feel so good I want to savor this feeling all night. He continues to suck my clit, staying on it until he knows he’s touched my spot. I let him build me up until I start rolling my head back and forth on the pillow. I pant and moan and release the sexual energy that is bound inside of me.

  “Hmm,” he says, carefully examining me after eating me out. “Your twat looks like sliced pork roast, smells like tilapia, and tastes like salt.”

  “Sounds like I don’t have to cook tonight.”

  “Hey, I’m ready for dessert.”

  He grabs a condom package from inside a drawer, rips it apart, and lets me slide it over his throbbing cock.

  I climb on top of Scottie and straddle him between my thighs. We slowly stroke each other. When I thrust into him, we howl and whimper like we’re singing a sexual duet.

  “Does that make you feel good?” I kiss his lips and keep him from answering. He cups his hands around my butt cheeks and squeezes. I love the way Scottie’s body feels when he’s inside of me. Every inch of him feels like he belongs totally to me. The sexual connection we have erases any doubts I sometimes entertain when it comes to us.

  Are we a really good couple or am I just fooling myself? Are the changes he says he’s making only temporary? And why, by the way, did he choose to get with LaNecia last year when he could have avoided that situation altogether?

  We rarely fight, but a week ago we got into it. We were over at Neil’s. It was after work and time for me to pick up Brax, but my son was asleep when I arrived. I decided to visit Scottie until Brax woke up.

  I happened to need change for a fifty. I asked Scottie if he could help me out.

  We were in his room chilling out on the bed. I was watching TV. Scottie was listening to his iPod.

  Scottie gestured at me to get his wallet, which was sitting on the chest of drawers. I casually got out of bed, retrieved his wallet, and tried to hand it to him. But he waved his hand like it was okay for me to get change myself.

  I unfolded his wallet, and the first thing I see is a small photo of him and LaNecia hugged up together. A tight knot immediately formed in my stomach. One part of me said, This is an old picture. She’s the past. He’s not that into her anymore.

  Another part of me asked, What kind of sicko messes around with his younger cousin and keeps photos of her in his wallet?

  I was so upset I didn’t care about getting change anymore.

  I tossed his billfold on the floor, climbed back in bed, and turned over on my stomach.

  When fifteen seconds passed and the man still didn’t figure out I was pissed, I sat up in bed, reached over and snatched the earbud from his ear. “Why the hell you mess around with LaNecia in the first place?”

  He turned down his music and said, “You don’t want to know this.”

  “I do, too. That situation is starting to freak me out. Summer was telling me some stuff….”

  “About me? She don’t know me.”

  “True, but she brought up some valid points.”

  “She’s just hating on us, Mariah.”

  “She’s my girl. She knows me. She knows I’m so into you I can’t see straight.”

  “Oh, so her job is to straighten out your twisted vision?”

  “Love is blind. And maybe I need to start looking at some things I haven’t wanted to see. So again, answer me. Why?”

  “I, um.”

  “Didn’t you know that wasn’t cool? Did you think about the harm you could do to the girl? To yourself?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “This is too important to ignore. It hurts me to know you were involved in something so dark and forbidden.”

  “You aren’t one to talk.”

  I couldn’t believe he went there with me.

  “I have my faults, but at least there’s a reason why I did what I did with your brother. I still don’t know yours. And until you tell me something, I think I don’t want to talk to you.”

  “Look, Dani. All I know is I care about you. The future is what’s important. I know we were wrong for what we did. LaNecia is a big tease. She threw it at me. I didn’t think. Plus we share great-grandparents, so hooking up with her didn’t seem as bad. I blocked out the fact that we’re blood. I–I just wanted to give her a try. Back then she was … dangerous and alluring, and I was stupid and immature. And I felt bad afterward.”

  “But your bad feeling didn’t stop you from having sex with her again … and again.”

  “You’re right. But that’s basically what happened. Now you know. I’m sorry about it all and I would never, ever do anything like that again. You believe me?”

  I didn’t know what to believe. God knows, I felt a mixture of sadness, curiosity, anger, and confusion. But at that time I chose to believe the thing that I felt would help me and him get through this. Everyone screws up in life and deserves second chances. If Scottie could admit he made a mistake and tried hard to correct it, then I wasn’t going to hold his sins against him. I felt compelled to help him live a better way. He helped me to do the same. We were connected like that.

  And today, one week later, I am still acknowledging that connection. Especially the fantastic sexual chemistry that I lov
e.

  Good sex makes up for a few arguments every single time.

  So here we are.

  In the aftermath of a fabulous and delicious round of some of the most sensual, satisfying, yet perplexing and complicated sexual encounters I’ve ever experienced.

  “Ahhh,” Scottie moans as he lies flat on his back. Streams of sweat cover his forehead and chest.

  “Hmm, you stink. You need to find your way to a shower. Now!”

  “If I stink, that means I did a good job.”

  “You did more than good. You were wonderful.”

  “Am I the best you’ve ever had?”

  “Not answering that.”

  “C’mon Dani. I need to know.”

  “You do not. We’ve already had this discussion. I don’t want to tell too much about my past relationships.”

  “You asked me why I did what I did with LaNecia, so why can’t I ask?”

  “It’s just not good for us. We should always do things that promote our relationship. Isn’t that what we agreed on?”

  “Yeah, but …”

  “But it’s hard to do, isn’t it Scottie?” I talk to him with gentleness. I want him to know I understand. Sometimes I adore his dedication, but it scares me if I think he’s trying too hard.

  My mama always told me if you have to work excessively hard at being with a man, than it wasn’t meant to be.

  “Babe, I don’t have to know all the details. I just want to know where I fit in.”

  “How’s this: On a scale from one to ten. You’re an eleven. You’re one of the few elevens I’ve ever had.”

  Scottie grins at me widely, swoops me in his arms, and cradles me like I’m a child. I love how this feels. And in spite of our challenges, I don’t want this feeling to ever end.

  — 13 —

  ANYA

  Thankful

  I can’t believe it’s that time of year again.” It’s five o’clock in the morning, during the wee hours of another Thanksgiving Day. The Earth is so quiet and peacefully still, it sounds as if God has gone to sleep.

  I’m at home, alone in my oversize garden tub. My legs, arms, breasts, and everything else on my body are totally immersed in soothing hot water filled with healing salts and jasmine-scented bubble bath. My hair is in rollers and wrapped in a silk scarf. My head is resting against a white foam bath pillow that perfectly supports my back. I’m reading a book of poetry and intermittently talking out loud.